


Parenthood

by SORD



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:59:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SORD/pseuds/SORD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually one reaches a point in one’s life, Katsura muses as his foot plunges through a particularly rotten plank of floorboard, where all one wants is a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parenthood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Joui Week

_Eventually one reaches a point in one’s life_ , Katsura muses as his foot plunges through a particularly rotten plank of floorboard,  _where all one wants is a home._

 _A place to return to, perhaps, or even just a sense of belonging._  The rest of the stairway begins to give way (Elizabeth had  _told_ him about the stairs, had  _warned_  him!), and his chin hits the next step sharply. His jaw slams shut with a resonant clack, and bright sparks dance around the edge of his vision.  _Or something - someone - a responsibility._

The stairs’ collapse seems to have triggered a larger and more structural destruction, and the roof starts to cave in.  _Something more than oneself._ The distant shouts of the Shinsengumi are drowned out by the clatter of concrete and roof tile, their forms obscured by clouds of plaster dust. As the building disintegrates (a process hastened, no doubt, by Okita’s obnoxious firearm,) Katsura comes to a decision.

_It is high time I became a parent._

_-_

He soon finds that progeny are difficult to come by, especially in these strange days. He begins to seek out children. Not for abduction, obviously, that would be terrible, but a wayward youngster, perhaps parentless, seeking guidance. Support! A responsible role model! someone to lovingly prepare nutritious (but still tasty!) bento box lunches!

Kagura and Shinpachi would both do quite nicely, and Gintoki is such a bad influence. He barely pays them! Katsura may not know very much about child-rearing but even he knows that children need the security and stability of a weekly paycheck. He takes to loitering around the Yorozuya offices, trying to establish a gentle and comforting presence. Perhaps they’ll warm to him, given time.

Gintoki makes the expected noisy complaints but Katsura is used to ignoring him. He makes an effort to tone down his usual snappish retorts, murmuring “It’s Katsura, please,” whenever they get his name wrong. It is charming, how they can’t seem to use the right name.  _Ever_. Except Shinpachi, what a good boy, and so responsible! An orphan, coming of age, looking for a strong parental figure -

One afternoon he enters the office unannounced to find Shinpachi shirtless and bandanna’d. He’s red-faced, sweaty, and screaming about necromancy.

Katsura decides not to become Shinpachi’s parent. He is too … _complicated_.

 _Kagura_ , on the other hand … motherless, young, impressionable, well along the path to Sakata-ish ruin but not irredeemable. A young lady of great potential, a small samurai-in-the-making. Strong and cheerful, and accompanied by the most  _wonderful_  dog in the whole world. The perfect daughter, perhaps?

On a sunny morning, as he helps Kagura prepare egg on rice for the eighth time that hour, Katsura pauses. “Leader,” he begins, then clears his throat. “Ahem. Leader.”

She is so focused on her eighth breakfast that she doesn’t even look up. “What is it, Zura?”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. However … ” - and here Katsura pauses for poignant effect - “I would not be averse if you were to call me  _Mother_.”

She levels him with a measured glance. “Zura-”

“It’s not Zura, it’s -”

“Yellow Curry Ninja, I think it is time for you to go home. Yes?”

 _Oh Leader_ , he wants to sob.  _If only I had one_. But he leaves nonetheless. Children are too demanding, he decides. But an animal, a pet … now _there’s_  an idea.

-

Paws. Paw pads. Is there anything on earth lovelier, softer, more dear than the pads on the feet of a sweet innocent animal? A baby’s smile or a lover’s sigh can be charming, yes, but delicate paws? Fluffy tails? Adoring eyes gazing up from a soft-furred face? Animals are the best of all that is good in the world. Katsura is not prone to morbid thought but he has decided upon his ideal end - buried under a sea of puppies and kittens as they snuggle up to him and kiss his face.

But soft paws hold sharp claws, as Katsura well knows. The stray cats of Kabuki-cho are uniformly disdainful, gulping up his offerings of fish and milk, then walking away. They can smell his desperation. He knows - he was once numbered among their ranks.

With the stray cats unavailable, Katsura turns to dogs. Annoyingly, they are all attached.  _Where can one meet a dog_ , Katsura wonders,  _without going to an animal shelter?_  Animal shelters have recently been putting up “wanted” posters, and he doesn’t think the Shinsengumi are above teaching animals his scent. His love of paws is well known.

In a last-ditch effort, Katsura takes a bicycle ride through the safari park. It ends about as well as it usually does.

 _Was it worth it? Knowing what would happen?_ He can’t help but ask himself.

The beasts rain devastation upon him with vicious swipes, and Katsura smiles.  _Of course it was._

Pets, like children, are hard to acquire. He will have to try other avenues.

-

Cradling poor, dear, sweet Mr. Ukki, Katsura limps out of the devastated remains of the  apartment building. Between his sprained ankle and the too-precious weight in his arms the walk back to the Jouishi hideout is long and difficult. Thankfully the Shinsengumi do not pursue. They likely presume him dead.

When he finally arrives he takes a moment outside the door to compose himself. This will not be easy.

He is greeted by a chorus of glad shouts and cheers, but they stop short. Katsura is bowed by grief. The silence is welcome.

“It is with a heavy heart - ” his voice catches, cracks, but he continues “that I must announce a great loss for our cause. For our cause, and for myself, personally. Though he fought valiantly - oh, Ukki, you deserved so much more than this - ” Unable to finish, he buries his face in the prone form. The pot is shattered. Roots dangle limply as clumps of soil fall away. The lone blossom, long withered, drops to the floor. Tears (and blood, for death has not stilled any of Mr. Ukki’s characteristic prickliness) flow freely down Katsura’s face as he grieves.

The silence remains but changes character. The tension drains away, replaced by sympathy and concern. He feels a familiar appendage on his back and looks up at Elizabeth, who holds a sign.

_“We would have helped you water it, Katsura-san. All you had to do was ask.”_

Looking around the room, Katsura sees the faces of his comrades. They are all weeping, mourning a fallen friend, a … a _family member._ A  _brother_.

How could he have been so blind? He didn’t need to find a child - he was a parent all along.

Later, as Elizabeth is removing dozens of hair-thin cactus needles (a final gift from dearly beloved but exceedingly vicious Mr. Ukki) Katsura’s mind wanders.  _Eventually one reaches a point in one’s life_ , he muses, trying to ignore the stinging pain of his mangled face,  _where all one wants is a home. A place to return to. A sense of belonging. A responsibility._ **  
**

_I am lucky to have found one._


End file.
